


Meanwhile Back at the Ridge

by AbbyDebeaupre



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-09 02:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11095311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbbyDebeaupre/pseuds/AbbyDebeaupre
Summary: What happens when Jamie and Willie return to the Ridge? Love me some Lord John even if the man is destined to pine away in the forests of North Carolina.





	Meanwhile Back at the Ridge

 

 

As if thoughts of his son conjured him up out of thin air, John looked up to see the unexpected sight of Willie leading his horse into the morning light just starting to fill the paddock. He was  looking over his shoulder, sharing a laugh with Jamie Fraser.

 

John smiled himself at the sight of the two of them, and indulged in a rare chance to observe Jamie unaware. Jamie had eyes only for Willie, relaxed and clearly at ease now with the lad. He must have made some kind of movement causing Claire to look up from the doorway, her smile radiant even as her eyes filled with a little doubt and -- was that jealousy?

 

Moving quickly, she hastened into the yard and called out, “Welcome home!” Jamie’s face held his smile and he practically glowed as he lept from his horse and caught Claire in an exuberant embrace.

 

Just as John was about to move away to give them privacy for their reunion, Jamie’s called to him.

 

“How fares it, John?” asked with lips still holding that sweet smile.

 

“I am quite recovered.” John said, the turned to Willie, “As you can see, Willie. And you, did you see any Indians?” Willie, caught in the act of removing his saddle from his mount took a deep breath and was off and running, eagerly filling his father in on everything-- good and bad-- that had transpired. John gratefully allowed himself to be born away on the tide of his son’s chatter.

 

Jamie followed Willie’s example and tended to the immediate chores of caring for his horse and unpacking his saddle bags. He followed Claire into the house and, over the table in front of the hearth, holding onto Ian and Claire’s hands, quietly broke the news of Anna Ooka and held them to him as they wept.

 

John tactfully kept Willie busy outside, hearing the same sad tale from William and returning only when, driven by starvation, the boy demanded his mid-day meal.  As he sat down to eat, John squeezed Ian’s upper arm, offering quiet solace. He had become rather fond of Ian’s common sense Scottish outlook. He could see the influence of Jamie stamped all over this young man, though they did not resemble one another terribly much. Not like Willie and Jamie.

 

Perhaps it was only his imagination or perhaps it was the fact that the two of them had spent a harrowing week in one another’s company, but Willie and Jamie had never resembled each other more so than they did now.

 

Not just in looks, but gestures and inflection of voice. John watched in fascination noting new connections -- perhaps ones there but missed before.  John reminded himself that the similarity was, in part, due to Willie’s tendency to mimic men he hero worshipped. When he was very small, he would pattern himself after Hal, the improbable foreign languages Hal spoke fluently, coming with perfect pitch-- and usually in the form of imaginative curses-- from Willie’s innocent lips always made John laugh out loud.

 

John turned to find Ian staring at him. Feeling vaguely like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, John flushed and forced himself to look elsewhere. Except his eyes landed at that moment on Claire, who was looking at Jamie with such unabashed hunger that John felt the heat rising in his face, prolonging the redness there.

 

Ian took no pains to hide the fact that he was biting his lip to keep from laughing. “Come to think of it,” John thought as he amended his former good opinion of Ian, “the Scots are a perverse breed.” All well and good for him, callously enjoying John’s discomfort.  Jamie and Claire, oblivious to everything but one another, thank God, missed the undercurrents running between John and Ian.

 

“Come, Willie,” Ian said abruptly as he backed away from the table just as Uncle Jamie’s thumb started to caress Auntie Claire’s open palm causing her face to lite up like a child with her favorite sweetie.  

 

Ian knew from rare, though memorable, experience that once Uncle Jamie homed in on Auntie Claire in this manner and ceased observing the niceties required for polite behavior, everyone around them could go to hell and be damned. His uncle  would not be aware of anything save his wife. And Auntie Claire--well the couple of times it had happened in front of Ian gave him a queer feeling in his chest. She didna look or act at all like herself, soft and even more tasselled than usual, barely able to put a sentence together.  Ian hoped he would never be _that_  besotted with anyone. Useless, the both of them---- until they were able to work out whatever had gotten them to that state--in private, though that circumstance had to come about by the good manners and tactful behavior of everyone else, as they were completely incapable of circumspection themselves.

 

“We’d best get to the woods or we’ll have no but scraps for our supper.” Ian turned toward the cabinet where the rifles were stored. “May I borrow the Jager for Willie?” He asked Jamie politely. Jamie took a moment to process the fact that Ian had walked over to the gun rack and was talking to him.

 

“Aye….” he responded then lost his train of thought as Claire’s thumb dipped into the webbing between her husband’s fingers. Jamie inhaled a breath and shook his head a little, suddenly aware they were under observation, even as his fingers continued twining in Claire’s.

 

“Oh, aye, Ian, just mind the powder.”

 

John forced his mouth closed but couldn’t tear his eyes from their joined hands moving in the most remarkable way-- almost obscene but somehow undeniably reverent and utterly without any conscious thought on the part of the participants. He knew he was being impolite and came to his feet so fast his chair threatened to tip over.

 

“Ian, if you will wait a moment, I’ll accompany you to the clearing.”  

 

From the corner of his eye, John watched Jamie and Claire smile at each other, the air around them practically crackling and he was out of the door like a shot.  

 

“Shall you be hunting wi’ us?” Ian politely inquired. John glanced back at the house, wondering just how long he should arrange to be gone. “Three hours or so’d probably do it, I expect.” Ian said, hitting the mark on one.  

 

“Three _hours_?”  John said incredulously.

 

“Well, Uncle Jamie’s been gone o’er a week, Auntie Claire was a particular friend of the Anna Oaka and’ll need some comforting, aye?” Ian said reasonably, his rationale making more sense to John.

 

“And then they will be wanting time to mmphmf.” Ian infused this last with a wealth of meaning.

 

“Humpft?” Willie tried to echo, sounding confused.

 

“Mrs. Fraser is upset.” John explained, “She will need some time to herself to recover.”

 

“Recover, sir?” Willie asked. John was so distracted he missed the feigned innocence but caught the knowing look that passed between Ian and Willie in time to avert the potential for embarrassing and unnecessary explanations. Two peas in a pod were Willie and Ian and God help the world should they ever be unleashed upon it in concerted unity.

 

“I think I will go for a walk instead over to the tidal pools above the waterfall.” John said, thanking Ian just the same. He had heard it was beautiful there. The water collected in shallow pools warming in the sun.  He was longing for a proper bath and in the back woods of the Carolinas; it seemed this was his best opportunity for one.

 

He had, in fact, been on his way to the stream down by the shed when Willie and Jamie rode in but a warm pool a long walk from the cabin sounded perfect just now.  All he needed to do was grab the towel he had left on the porch. It was wrapped around some sweet smelling soap and a small bottle of something Claire called “shampoo” which was a word he had never before heard. He knew it wasn’t French, or German, but he gathered it meant something used in the hair.  

 

John set out walking steadily upward, grateful for a chance to gather his disquieted mind.  Willie was obviously fine, Jamie seemed----- well -- nothing if not content and, what? John struggled to name the emotion he had read running through Jamie, familiar he was sure, at least to himself.  Well, that was a clue, he knew.  So a familiar feeling….. but not one he customarily attributed to Jamie. Hmmm. He pushed himself up the dense underbrush, following a barely discernable path.  Like a bolt it came to him: happy. Jamie was happy.

 

John grinned, pleased at solving this riddle and oddly pleased to know that even though he had gone well out of his way to bring Willie here and his reasons for doing so were really rather selfish of him, he had at least done a small measure of good for someone other than himself.  

 

He could not allow himself to analyze that one too much, though. Aside from what it said about him, if he dwelt too long on it he would start to worry that Jamie, having spent some time with Willie, would want more than was wise. This due to both their similarity of form as well as Willie’s inexorable maturation that would, sooner or later, cause him to become more self-aware and capable of guessing at the underlying relationship between himself and Jamie.  John could not, would not, think of what might happen then. It simply would not happen and he and Jamie owed the boy to see that it did not.

 

John’s muscles felt pleasantly strained as the trail carried him upward into the mountains. The exertion allowing his mind to empty and his body to take over.  He smelled the clean scent of the water first then heard the lower falls and exclaimed at the view. A respectable sized cascade beat down, still out of reach of the sunshine. John drank in the sight of the outcropping of boulders set along a bank surrounding a deep reservoir, a green-blue that reflected the sky above and so clear he could see the bottom from where he stood.

 

The pool, shrouded in shadow, looked cold. John surveyed the ledge above and saw the path that led to the top of the cascade. Upwards, then, he continued, hand over hand, sure and steady.  At the very top a world of wonder opened before him. Sunshine full and hot rolled over him as the water ruffled and rippled all along an unexpectedly wide expanse of shallow river. A smaller series of cascades beckoned in the near distance.  Feeling like a child playing explorer, John eagerly leapt onward toward it.  

 

*******

John laughed to himself as he dried off, his back lodged comfortably in an indentation on a sun soaked rock. The upper cascades were four inter-connected chutes, the underlying rocks, worn smooth over time, sliding one to the other-- which he discovered quite by accident-- down to the pool that acted like a reservoir feeding the  waterfall below where he first climbed up.  

 

He had not played like that in many years-- since he was a boy really, but it was thrilling. That first unexpected plunge, being dropped down the first small falls, carried onward to the next, spinning helplessly around while pulled to a third only to abruptly emerge suddenly safe in paradise.

 

The feeling of a light breeze dried the hairs on his pubic bone. The shadows had begun to lengthen as the afternoon stretched on, but where he lay it was still sunkissed. Dragonflies snapped to and fro overhead, dark green-headed flies buzzed every now and then in his ear but not troubling him much. He sighed, still recovering from his illness and worn out by the swim. John smelled of Claire’s shampoo and had to admit that despite the fact that it seemed to be made using some kind of oil, his hair felt remarkably clean and soft after its use.

 

He absentmindedly grabbed ahold of his semi-erect penis. How long had it been since he had slacked this particular thirst? Startled, he realized it had been several weeks, not since he learned of Isabel. Acknowledging the deprivation caused his cock to fully harden at once. He quickly used his tongue to slicken his hand and began to grip himself in earnest.  He craved friction, needing more.  His eyes rested guiltily on the shampoo, then he shrugged. Claire was nothing if not a practical person, he doubted she would really mind. John rose up to grab the bottle and then heard voices. He stilled at once, his hardness beginning to retreat, naked as a jay bird, caught, by damn.

 

John was seconds from diving for cover in the water when he realized the sounds were coming from the pool below. Friend or foe? Despite Ian’s assurances that they enjoyed generally friendly relations with neighboring tribes, John was mindful of the fact that they still did not have a resolution to the whole business of the dead Indian in the cave. Caution was the better part of valor, he knew.

 

He could not make out the words yet but had the sense of the voices coming closer. He crept forward and rested his belly against a cluster of smaller rocks positioned just before the overhang of the waterfall and eased himself down until he was lying flat against the stones.  Belatedly, he noticed he still had the shampoo clutched tightly in one hand.

 

He rested it next to his chest, ensuring it lay flat so the sun would not glint off the bottle and give away his presence. He crept forward, slowly scanning the forest floor below. John caught glimpses of movement under the green canopy.  Mentally he cursed himself for not having any weapon to hand.

 

“Stupid Dösbaddel!” he bit out, heart clenching as he realized he had cursed out loud.  He quickly ducked his head and held still.  Gradually, he realized that the noise of the water rolling down the falls drowned out any sounds he might make above while, conversely, the configuration of the topography made it easy for him overhear normal conversation taking place below.

“Here, Sassenach, let me hold those” he heard, recognizing at once Jamie’s highland burr.

 

“I can’t imagine walking into Anna Ooka and finding such chaos, Jamie. I won’t ask you how it was, though I am sure it was worse than anything I can imagine. By the set of your shoulders, I can tell it's with you still.” Claire was saying.  

 

John was many things, but an eavesdropper he was not. He made haste to pull back and leave, hoping to find another route down and back leaving them none the wiser regarding his presence. What he heard next stopped him cold.

 

“Aye, to see a thing such as that...well...But even so, _a leannan_ , I wouldna change the leavin’ for it gave me six days with--” Jamie paused.

 

“With your son, Jamie, it’s alright you can say it.” John could hear the smile in her voice tinged with a wistful edge. “Willie is family, too.”  

 

John abruptly lay himself back down in time to catch Jamie’s emphatic nod of the head. They were leaning against the cluster of rocks kitty corner to his position. For good or ill, he had a perfect view. Claire had her shoes off, skirts ruched up, tucked into her waist, ankle deep in the pool, her stockings streaming from Jamie’s outstretched arms as he stood on the bank. She was looking down at the water, John thought maybe she was watching Jamie through the reflection.

 

Not for the first time, John was struck by the similarities between Claire and himself.  Both of them intuitively giving Jamie cover, neither of them quite able to look away entirely whenever he was near. Claire reached out to touch Jamie’s arm in a way that made John’s hand tingle, not unpleasantly.

 

“Jamie,” Claire paused and waited for him to look at her and when she had is attention she said, “My heart aches knowing you’ll never get the same chance with Brianna,” He could hear the sorrow in her voice now and wondered again about their mysterious daughter, “but I am glad you have it with Willie. Whatever my feelings for  Lord John--- and, in honesty,”

 

John did not miss the significance of the look she gave him, though he had no notion of what lay behind it,

 

“I suppose I should tell you that I am beginning to see his appeal--”

 

Jamie made a grunt of encouragement and John was gratified to see the broad smile that accompanied it, “but no matter how good a father John has been, for Willie’s sake, I am glad he had this time with you and you with him.  Willie is everything you told me he was- brave and stubborn, braw and canty and--” Jamie reached out his hand, the stockings forgotten in a heap behind him and cupped her face in his hands.

 

“--and mine!” Jamie finished together with her as they smiled into each other’s eyes, though Jamie’s words were said with dark emphasis. John’s heart skittered in his chest.  What exactly did Fraser mean by _that_?

 

Jamie shifted toward Claire suddenly and kissed her, hard and deep. John watched, a little stunned, as Jamie threw all of his pent up frustrations into that kiss. He had seen the great affection between them, loving touches, warm looks and had been able to guess at the passion that lay beneath. Seeing it though, in the rigid set of Jamie’s arms as he drew her against his groin, in the boneless response of his wife as she rose up a little out of the water and hearing it now as she moaned into his open mouth, stirred such a feeling of longing in John that he felt he was being held no less captive by Jamie than Claire. Jamie pulled her hard to him and claimed her again with his lips. John’s forgotten cock stirred into urgent life once more.

 

Jamie’s hand reached down and cupped Claire’s bottom with both hands, driving her against him.  John could see her grinding herself along his length and he shuddered as he imagined how Jamie’s hands would feel gripping his arse. Jamie passionately nuzzled her ear, cheek and neck, all the while his busy hands roamed over Claire’s backside and chest, taking opportunities here and there to disrobe her. John’s location allowed him to drink in every detail. He could even see Jamie’s teeth as he-- Good God! Jamie bit down hard on her breast.  Far from rejecting such rough treatment, Claire let out a thrilled scream. John’s balls squeezed and then painfully relaxed back along the rough rock surface. He pulled himself up to an awkward position that let him see, but freed his lower half so he could wrap his fist around his throbbing cock and watch as Jamie masterfully played his wife like a virtuoso.

 

John knew he should leave, knew how wrong this was but it had been so long since he’d seen anything that had stirred him and it was not just anything it was _Jamie_ . Jamie in a way that he had only dreamed of, had only seen in his imagination brought to life suddenly and it was so much more, so much better than anything he had ever thought. Oh Jesus, he watched those long, firm fingers dip into Claire’s center as she let out a high pitched “eek!” causing Jamie to laugh in delight.  How could he be doing this, John thought even as he stroked himself, like some _perverted voyeur_? Then again, how could he not?

 

Transfixed, he watched -- not entirely sure what was more enthralling-- the site of Claire dangling helplessly, writhing in ecstasy, her moans increasing in volume and pitch or Jamie, hooded, triumphant eyes watching her, paying hawk-like attention, drawing out shrieks and squeaks for the sheer pleasure of pleasing her.

 

“Now, lass, let go, I have you, now!” Jamie commanded, John could not imagine anyone disobeying such an order. Claire, incoherent at this point, nevertheless managed to convey her compliance with that directive, as her loudest cry yet echoed off the canyon walls. Oh, to be on the receiving end of such regard!

 

John groaned as he pumped against his own sex, seeking both to prolong the pleasure and relieve its throbbing ache. Long past the point of trying to justify his actions, knowing only that he could not help himself, he remembered the shampoo, reaching for it, anticipating the sensation it would bring.  At least he had an answer to the question that had motivated his journey to the Ridge- yes, damnit! He could still _feel_. And apparently see, and hear. At this, he glanced up as a kind of a different cry from Claire startled him, just in time to see her head lowering to Jamie’s -- Oh God!-- and to taste! His mouth watered at the sight of Jamie, now half way upon the boulder set at the edge of the pool, laying down on his back, braced on his elbows, boots and breeches disregarded in a heap near the bank, watching his wife swallow his cock, whose impressive size John could just make out from his arie. Her strong, competent hands-- both! firmly holding it moving in counterpoint to her mouth.  John’s balls spasmed and he almost lost it as Claire’s right hand snaked even lower behind Jamie’s braced legs. Jamie’s elbows gave out as he lifted the lower part of his back shifting on the rock and giving her more access. Then Jamie groaned loudly, fisting his hands into her hair. John could see those hands shaking. His mouth ran dry-- he fought to stay present, he could feel a rush of intensity snaking up his spine but he fought it...not yet, oh please! Not quite yet.  

 

“Holy Jesus Sassenach, I must have ye, I must!” Jamie pulled her up to him. As his cock came free from Claire’s mouth with an audible “pop”, John was afforded an unobstructed view of Jamie - the man was slick from Claire’s ministrations, beautifully engorged, his red pubic hair caught in a beam of sunshine. John moaned. In one heave, Claire mounted him right where he lay on the rock. Her skirts, he noticed for the first time lay next to Jamie’s trousers and she pulled her shift out of the way enough so that it did not impede either her movement or John’s view. He could see Jamie holding himself rigid, straining for every bit of hardness he could harness for Claire’s pleasure as she impaled herself upon him. John heard Claire make some interesting noises and, watching Jamie’s knowing smile understood that even if she herself was unaware of it, she must do it all the time. Each time she rose off him, John could see Jamie’s cock in the daylight between their bodies before the next downward thrust. God what must that feel like?  John grunted as he moved one hand, fingers, covered in the viscous shampoo to play with his cleft. John rode his own hand in imitation of Claire who was chanting Jamie’s name, seeking release once more.

 

Impatiently, Jamie pushed and pulled at the shift, finally reaching up to fling the offending garment off her body.  Heedless, Claire continued to move but Jamie’s adjustment changed their position and his mouth was level with her breasts.  He placed a nipple in his mouth and sucked greedily. When next she came down, Claire slowed her movements to savor Jamie’s mouth on first one, then the other breast. Her hand held the back of his head close as he sucked and nipped.  Claire’s second orgasm was accompanied by her hands mindlessly beating out her urgency against Jamie’s back as she shook and shivered and groaned, gulping great breaths of air, her forehead pressed tightly against his as Jamie held onto her with such tenderness and love, John’s eyes started to sting.

 

John almost missed seeing how Jamie’s arms shook as she finished the last of her spasms. He quickly looked at Jamie’s face and was overcome by the look of raw need he saw there. Jamie reached down, scooping her thighs in his arms and forcefully pushed Claire upwards and off of his cock and spun her around lightning quick. She was straddling him still, but facing outwards; her bottom wedged tightly against Jamie’s lap. Claire, brought out of her trance, became aware of her new position and struggled to get her feet out onto the rock face on either side of Jamie. He was still half-lying on the rock, fumbling into better position behind her.  They both sighed in loud satisfaction, rejoined, as Claire, flung out into space, resembled nothing so much like the figurehead on a ship’s bow, with nothing between her and a fall against the rocks save the anchor of her husband’s hardness and his large, sure hands splayed securely across her chest and abdomen.

 

Her hair fell down all around her face, obscuring her expression but John had a clear view of Jamie’s face as it changed from need to determination, set hard but sure. Claire experimented with the new angle, learning how to use the leverage of her feet against the rock, counting on Jamie to work in concert with her, keeping her safe, as she tried various positions.  A series of moans as she obviously found a way to move that pleased them both. Her rear end pistoned in double time, John could not quite describe the movement but found it to be impossibly erotic even to him.

 

Jamie could not get enough and now he was the one groaning in helpless abandon as Claire looked behind her and gave Jamie a knowing laugh and smile, daring him to hang on tight as she pushed the limits of his strength but Jamie’s eyes remained riveted upon her firm very round ass as she slid in and out against him and the cords in his neck showed the strain. John’s forehead soaked with sweat watching them, he was panting in time now with Jamie, feeling each thrust home, he wriggled a finger into his puckered rear seeking a fraction of what he thought his friend had to be feeling. He fisted himself harder, no longer caring whether he was quiet, out of control and craving only the release that had started in the arches of his feet, impossibly intense.

 

Claire’s heartful, “Jamie, God Jamie! Please!” echoed in his ears and blood rushed to his head. Jamie shifted his hands, those impossibly large hands so his fingers slid along the sweat of her stomach, glistening in the sunlight, down toward where they were joined.

 

“No much longer, Sassenach” Jamie called out in warning.

 

Claire’s answer was another high pitched screech that ended on a moan as his fingers clearly found their mark. John’s own fingers had found their mark as well. He could not tell whether it was Jamie or he that moaned next. He watched in fascination as Claire pushed both arms backwards and her hands deliberately separated her ass cheeks to give Jamie a better view of what he had been intensely watching.

 

Claire moaned as a great red rush moved swiftly up Jamie’s stomach, chest and face as he screamed,  “Oh Jesus….your sweet arse...Oh Christ, Claire!” Jamie shouted this last word as John’s cock exploded, his ears filled with the sound of blood pumping to his oxygen deprived lungs and he came and came and came in concert with Jamie.  Utterly spent, John collapsed against the rock.

 

The last thing John heard was Claire saying, “Enjoyed it did you?” and Jamie’s playful reply, “Aye, I thought my heart was going to burst.”  You and me both, John thought as he closed his eyes, sated.

 

  

 


End file.
